


Weighing Words

by FitzJeesh



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF John, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Silent!John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 17:48:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5794003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FitzJeesh/pseuds/FitzJeesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Look at him, dashing about! My husband was just the same." Mrs Hudson shook her head towards the direction of the doorway, and then looked down at John in concern. "Are you alright dear?" She asked, "You've been very quiet".<br/>Embarrassed, John shifted in his chair. He closed his eyes for a moment to steel himself before lifting up his chin, displaying an ugly, jagged scar on his throat.</p><p>*This is a WIP but feedback will be sufficient motivation for me to continue*<br/>***</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weighing Words

“Mike, can I borrow your phone? There’s no signal on mine.”

“And what’s wrong with the landline?”

“I prefer to text.”

“Sorry, it’s in my coat.”

 

Sherlock continued to stare into the microscope when someone stood in front of him and tapped on the table for his attention. The detective looked up and saw the army doctor holding out his phone to him with a soft smile.

“Oh! Thank you.”

The silent man limped back slightly to give him privacy while Sherlock texted.

“This is an old friend of mine” Mike said, “John Watson”.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?”

John blinked in surprise, then cocked his head in question.

“Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?”

The doctor took out a board and scribbled quickly: **A. HOW**?

“How do you feel about the violin?”

Again the questioning look.

“I play the violin when I’m thinking, sometimes I don’t talk for days… Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.”

The doctor turned to Mike pointedly.

“I didn’t tell him anything”.

He faced Sherlock again, who explained: “I told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult person to find a flatmate for. Now here he is after lunch with an old friend, clearly just back from military service in Afghanistan. It wasn’t a difficult leap.

“I’ve got my eye on a nice little place in central London, together we ought to be able to afford it. We will meet tomorrow, 7 o’clock. Sorry, gotta dash; I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary”.

But before he could leave, John cleared his throat - the first sound Sherlock had heard him make – and raised his board: WE DON’T KNOW EACH OTHER.

Sherlock took this as a challenge. “I know you’re an army doctor and you’ve been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you’ve got a brother, who is worried about you, but you won’t go to him for help because you don’t approve of him. Possibly because he’s an alcoholic, more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. I know you are a selective mute and have been since at least med school, most likely earlier. And I know that your therapist thinks your limp is psychosomatic, quite correctly I’m afraid. That’s enough to be getting on with, don’t you think?

“The name’s Sherlock Holmes. And the address is 221B Baker Street. Afternoon!”


End file.
